Margaery Tyrell had always been fascinated by the idea of possibilities. Her grandmother blamed her father constantly telling her stories form the Age of myths even as her mother told her the more traditional legends of Andal figures from the Age of Heroes. To counterbalance that deficiency her grandmother, the sharp-tongued Queen of Thorns, had encouraged her to think critically and skeptically about what she called "fanciful bard's tales meant to flatter fool lords from ages past."
And yet it would ironically be an act of magic itself that rendered her grandmother utterly speechless for the first time in Margaery's memory.
Margaery was returning from a progress that had taken them around Highgarden's lands with her father, her grandmother's Redwyne escort bringing herself and Garlan, one of her older brothers, at the same time so that the two trains could join together to enter the ancestral keep of house Tyrell. As they were dismounting in the fragrant courtyard, a page made his way to each of Margaery's family members before coming to the Rose of Highgarden herself. A light blush decorated his cheeks as he looked at her, indicating he was fairly new. It was always cute though sometimes decidedly less so when they shared the thoughts behind the blush. Not that they would dare say as much to her face but thanks to hearing the things her brothers did not say and Mira Forrester's occasionally blunt recounting of Northern humor, Margaery could think of damn near any possible innuendo involving her 'blooming rose' or 'dewy petals' or speculation about exactly how rosy or fragrant her breasts were. One would almost think she wasn't betrothed to Renly Baratheon with how some men speculated.
But the page was able to tell her that her eldest brother Wilas had called a private Tyrell family meeting in the Highgarden library. Margaery gave a brief curtsey as her mind worked through the possibilities, trying to puzzle out what her bookish brother could possibly want to share. Certainly he'd more than once invited Margaery herself to the library to discuss a new tome and what its contents might mean. She might not read as voraciously as her eldest brother, but their grandmother had certainly done the most to teach her to think through the implications of a thing. Margaery liked to think her grandmother was much the same. Else how could she explain her grandmother risking much by giving herself to her grandfather Luthor Tyrell rather than marry into the Targaryens via Daeron Targaryen, the fourth son of Aegon the Unlikely? It would certainly have been an easier path to royalty than the life she had now.
The sole daughter of Highgarden made her way through the wide spacious halls of her ancestral home, stained glass windows interspersed with some of the finest wooden shutters to be found in a keep. Her footsteps echoed off the marble floors whose mosaics were every shade of rose imaginable. And if rumors were true, it was a reflection of the grandest stained glass window that had once been directly behind the throne of Highgarden. Word of mouth said that it depicted Garth Greenhand himself with his arms spread to his sides as if to embrace all the various colors and shades of flowers that crowded the foreground of the window.
It seemed terribly likely to her when she'd first been told the rumor by one of her cousins born to Lord Paxter Redwyne that the Gardner Kings who'd once ruled the Reach had locked away or more likely destroyed the window once they converted to the faith of the seven so long ago to better fall in line with the seven painted star's assertion that were only miracles blessed by the seven and sorceries which were unholy blasphemies against the way the world was meant to work.
As she entered the library, she found it interesting to not that the attendants, not to mention Maester Crane, were missing. Evidently Wilas had been quite serious about it being only family present. She strode toward the back window where Wilas spent much of his time but was slowed to a stop when she found he wasn't there. Nearby she heard Garlan's voice, asking Wilas if he was going to give him a hint as to what his mysterious news was.
"Biarves bë dōron lae hurlion valonqar." The heir to House Tyrell said in a smiling tone.
Margaery made her way over to the origin of the conversation and found two of her three brothers seated upon velvet lined mahogany chairs inlaid with gold filigreed roses. As she came into their line of sight, Garlan stood with a loving smile and opened his arms.
"Sister!" He said happily as she embraced him, uncaring that her green silk with gold rose brocade was potentially being wrinkled by his riding leather and wool tunic.
"Garlan. A lovely change to be able to hold you without a lingering scent of the training yard." She teased as she hugged him back, her brown doe eyes closing briefly as she enjoyed the hug.
He laughed at the jest offered by herself, their mother and their grandmother on a regular basis. But he was a warrior through and through, a man who often had two or three attack him at once when he trained in the yard so that he would not be caught off guard in a true battle.
As they drew back, Margaery moved toward Wilas, only to have him wave her off.
"I know how awkward you find it to hug when I sit Marge. Just wait until everyone is here and I promise a proper greeting." He said, a shine to his eyes even brighter than the time he'd found a book full of roughly translated Valyrian stories.
They passed the time discussing how the progress through the rReach had gone before their parents and their grandmother arrived.
"Left, Right, out!" Make yourselves useful and ensure no oafs aside from my son stumble down here!" Came their Grandmother Olenna's sharp instruction.
Her grandmother was not the most patient of people as anyone who had spent more than five minutes with her could attest. But Margaery had never once heard either Erryk or Arryk talk back to her when she ordered them around like that. More than once she'd wondered what her grandmother had done to engender such loyalty from the tall, broad-shouldered red-haired twins. But beyond turning it into a guessing game, all her grandmother would say about the matter was that the only thing Margaery needed to know was that she vouched for their value to House Tyrell.
As their father Lord Mace Tyrell and their mother Lady Alerie Tyrell, formerly of House Hightower, settled into their seats their grandmother turned her attention to Wilas as she made her way forward, her cane tapping with each alternate step.
"Well isn't this a fine way to greet an ailing old woman!" She declared as she hobbled her way toward the rest of the family present.
Still smiling, Wilas rose without a word and before anyone could do more than start to leave their seats to help him, strode toward their grandmother and leaned down to hug her with both arms. His ornate cane stood abandoned by the side of his chair, its polished oaken finish seeming almost mocking in its cheerfulness.
"I hope this greeting is more to your liking grandmother." He said gently, his voice loud in the sudden silence of the library.
Margaery could feel her heartbeat in her ears. What was this? When he'd been injured in that joust she had prayed daily for his pain to be taken and his leg healed. When he awoke the seven's answer was a definitive no on both counts, she had privately lost her faith. Her grandmother's expert tutelage had been thorough in tempering her belief in miracles but one who loved her family like Margaery did could not simply give up when there might be some far-flung chance that prayer might help. But what else could this be but a miracle when Maester Crane was so certain about how much Wilas was lucky to still have his leg attached instead of it having proven necessary to amputate it altogether?
As her mind raced, Margaery was abruptly picked up in Wilas' strong arms and spoun around like they were children again. The single thing missing was-
"Only one of us is allowed to be so lost in our thoughts at a time Marge." He said with a laugh.
And with that phrase she hadn't heard in so long combined with something no one thought her brother could ever get back, the dam broke inside Margaery.
Her eyes were wet with tears of happiness that cascaded down her delicate cheeks even as she laughed loudly enough to fill the air with her unbridled joy, her slender arms tightening around her eldest brother's neck. Possibility was real and it did exist. Almost as if her elation was a cue, the rest of her assembled family gathered around to rejoice in the fortune of the now fully restored heir to Highgarden.
Garlan was joking enthusiastically about facing a potential challenge in the ring, their mother was crying for her boy having been made whole again and their father had proudly thrown his arms around both his sons and declared loudly to them that this signaled a golden age for House Tyrell until her grandmother at last unfroze and spoke up.
"What fool alliance has that thick-skulled boy Loras dragged us into?!" Came the abrupt exclamation.
The rest of the family looked over at her but only Margaery let go of Wilas to look him in the eye: her own mind instantly making the connection their grandmother was hinting at.
"Who did Loras bring you to see Wilas?" Margaery asked him, noting he didn't look remotely surprised or nervous. Almost as if he'd expected them to know straight away.
"What did he promise in exchange for the sorcery?" Fear creeped into the edges of her thinking but not her tone.
What had her brother promised in exchange for Wilas being healed? What sorcerer could there be in Westeros, let alone the capital, that could've possibly performed this magic without the Tyrell family having heard their name before? And what would association with this mage mean for House Tyrell?
Wilas took a couple of steps back before sitting in the chair and gesturing for his family to do the same.
"Fear not sister, I will explain things as I know them to be. So I ask you to listen well." He said before he began recounting his experience.
The frustration that led him to disguise himself and accompany Loras to King's Landing. Renly informing them both about the wildfire. Margaery thought it passing strange that Lord Stark's bastard son was apparently the one who'd discovered a secret in King's Landing that not even the spymaster Varys appeared to be aware of. Moreso when Wilas recounted the tourney of the hand and the Stark bastard's quick action taken to protect Loras, even using some of his own fire-based magic to drive back Ser Gregor Clegane, Tywin Lannister's most fearsome dog. A part of her that remembered the old stories from the Age of Myths and the Age of Heroes wondered what he might've been able to do if he hadn't been tired and injured from the melee earlier in the day.
Then at last he came to the crux of the matter: Snow leveraging the saving of Loras' life to ask for the Tyrell family to help him pay for the Dragon Pits. Loras deciding to test the bastard's claims of the power to heal and conviction to use the Dragon Pits as a place of healing and sanctuary by challenging him to heal Wilas in exchange for the 10,000 gold dragons he needed after the winnings of the tourney amounted to 90,000 for the price the King had set for him.
There were two important points Margaery noticed. One, Loras hadn't promised anything beyond the 10,000 gold dragons in exchange for proof of the abilities the bastard son of Lord Stark purported to possess. And two, Loras hadn't told this Jon Snow who Wilas really was and hadn't told Renly about the request made or its outcome.
The only daughter of House Tyrell shared a look with her grandmother, both of them of one mind that while such power being introduced to the cyvasse board that was the political landscape of Westeros was a serious complication upon an already fraught playing field, it was also a great potential boon it would be the utmost foolishness to ignore. Especially after it had already proven its potency twice by benefitting their house so greatly. And thanks to Loras making his pledge of gold, they were already entangled as it was. But with luck, it could be turned to serve them the way the High Septon had served the Targaryens and now the Iron Throne in general.
Thus it was that Maester Crane was brought in the next day to examine Wilas after her family had talked out what it all meant, her mother seeming the most reluctant to get involved with magic in the first place and her brother Garlan the most interested save Wilas himself. Her father was just happy for Jon Snow's intervention working to save his sons regardless of source, causing her grandmother to call him a simpleton.
Wilas reliably informed Margaery later that it was the first time he'd ever seen the master swear or pray in front of him before. But of course before they could all agree on how to make the matter of Wilas' recovery more widely known, trouble found them and the playing field shifted yet again. It came in the form of three riders thundering up the path toward Highgarden. In the lead, Renly Baratheon with a face white as milk to tell them that King Robert was dead and Lord Eddard Stark was accused of attempting to usurp the throne from the rightful heir Joffrey. Second came her missing brother Loras, with tales that it was shortly after quarrelling with his own bastard son that Lord Stark had been imprisoned and Robert Baratheon had died whilst on a hunting excursion into the King's Wood. Third came the red priest, Thoros of Myr, who told her and her grandmother when they asked that Snow was entrusting him to watch over his ally Ser Loras to ensure that no harm came to him or those he cared about.
In the scattered, chaotic days afterward, Margaery could only reflect again on how many possibilities were presenting themselves. It had become clear that they would either have to declare for Joffrey or for Renly. With his engagement to Margaery, not to mention Stannis being how he was about what he felt was fair dues, it was fairly clearcut that they would side with the promising of the Baratheon brothers. As she and Renly stood before the Septon: he in his family colors of black and gold and she in her gown of green and gold while Loras put Renly's cloak about her, all she could think to herself was one thing as she looked into Renly's sky blue eyes. The king is dead, long live the king.
-/-
Author's Note: Finished this chapter before the others. Hope everyone likes it.